


Moments in Between

by KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls



Series: Til the universe tears us apart [2]
Category: star wars AU - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Other, will add tags as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls/pseuds/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls
Summary: Collection of snapshots during the "You with me?" storyline.





	Moments in Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a snapshot written into the "You with me?" timeline, between Chapters 5 and 6.

Poe's gait is filled with anger. The heaviness of his boots is the least at fault. Each step he takes is harsh on purpose as though he wants to split the ground open and make Tharixx 5 shake if not shatter beneath him. Send rippling shockwaves through the planet and tear it at its edges. Maybe then they'll listen.  
  
It's rare to see Major Dameron this way. His usually charming smile is stripped from his face and replaced with an anger that seems to have settled into every fiber of his body. From the way he walks to the way he breathes to the way his jaw stiffens like cooled Mirkanite.  
  
Colonel Varless' repeated ignorance and indifference to Poe's findings have ignited the fuse yet again. Thus far, each time the ranking officer decided to overlook pressing concerns, Poe has managed to walk away in muted frustration, but you're not sure how much longer until that fuse gets too short, too close to blow the lid off completely.  
  
Today's briefing had definitely pushed the limits.  A few times over, you had to remind Poe through sideways glances and subtle touch that it is not worth his career. That you need hard evidence, more than a couple of established trade routes springing from the Unknown Regions to insignificant planets. That scoping out possible outposts is not the same as breaking ground. And that whispers and hearsay are subpar to recordings or writings. That anything tangible outweighs the word of a word of a word. And Poe had held it together barely just.  
  
The walk back to your quarters remains harsh and fast. You're barely able to keep step with Poe. Although he's never lashed out in any form, you feel as though something else is off. Usually, you leave briefings walking side by side, at some point Poe slipping his hand into yours when he deems it a safe distance from etiquette control, but today he'd pulled away on your way over, and you're trying to understand why.  
  
The door swooshes open and once inside, Poe pretty much rips his uniform from his body. His boots fly across the floor and so do his New Republic Fleet tags, broken chain and all. When you reach a cautious hand to his shoulder, the hardened look he gives in response sends shivers down your spine. "Don't!" Is all he offers before he turns his head away and you swear you see tears in his eyes. He pushes a few breaths through his nose, head still turned away from you, his body falls into a defeated posture. "I'm going to take a shower. Need to wash this kriffing day away." He makes his way to the refresher and you stay put, unsure how to proceed.  
  
You know he needs some distance. Time to cool off. Collect his thoughts. Who wouldn't if their pleas got ignored time and again? But today feels different. Personal. You decide to give him that space. You always do but you somehow know, you'll have to take the first step to reach. So for a few minutes at least, you leave him be.  
  
You collect his uniform, boots, and tags and carefully store everything in his locker. The broken chain you plan on replacing first thing in the morning. For now, you save it in a trinket box on Poe's desk where under flickering lights you catch a glimpse of his star charts. A few more dots have been added since you've seen them last. Marks like the bites of a young pup testing its boundaries. A few crossed out where a bite wouldn't latch.  
  
 You sigh, torn between your logic and heart. You wait a few more minutes for Poe to shut off the water, but when you're sure that he's not coming out of the shower anytime soon, you, too, strip out of your clothes.  
  
The refresher is filled with steam and you're barely able to see Poe's outline behind the glass doors. He stands with his palms flat against one wall, his head slumped as hot water slowly runs over his naked frame from a waterfall spout. He's clearly not heard you enter or else, he'd have at least moved his head. Or maybe he knows you're here but chooses to ignore you. You don't care.  
  
You open the glass door and step in behind him. Your arms closing around him, he tenses at your touch, but you don't back off. You lean your cheek against his shoulder and hold on tight for a moment before using spiced soap to wash his back. Your action letting him know that you're still his and hope that he's still yours. "Talk to me." You whisper and place a kiss on heated skin, a hint of spiced soap clinging to your lips before it washes away under the running water. You embrace him again and wait, the moment between request and reply like felt eternity.  
Poe inhales and exhales sharply. "Do you believe me?" His voice is laced with doubt so heavy it cuts like a blunt knife into your soul.  
  
Somehow, you feel you should've known that this was what's driven his anger today. But you're not sorry. You stand by your opinions. It doesn't mean that you don't believe him. It only means that before you have concrete proof you can't much sway anyone to believe you. And if the New Republic were to strike too soon, all evidence out there will likely disappear in an instant or worse, tilt the Senate in favor of the First Order.  
  
A military strike against what is deemed a non-threatening faction could easily be seen as a reason to dismantle what little defense there is, if not an act of war altogether. You need proof. You need alliances. And all you have right now are a couple of established trade routes and whispers at best; sources too scared to step out openly and confirm the dotted mess across Poe's star charts.  
  
Poe knows all this. You've told him time and time again. And it's not just the proof you need. But there's a fear that's slowly been growing in the pits of your stomach. Some of those whispers have ended up dead before they could step out to confirm. And the last thing you want is a quiet death to bury the growing truth you've collected. "I do." You reply at last and Poe turns in your hold.  
  
He casts a heavy look down your body, his head hanging in some kind of shame. He's angry that doubts have invaded his mind this way. Ashamed he's even considered you don't believe. You lift his face by the chin to look at you. "I know, it feels like I don't have your back, but Poe... I'm worried. The noise we're making. We have to be smart about this. Build a network of people we can trust."  
  
Poe nods into your hand then presses a kiss into your palm. He knows the fear is valid. Though, he’s never wanted to see it on you. Terrified of whispers. Worried uncertainty. But to him, this proves your belief. Why else would you be scared? "There's someone... Something... We're not as alone as you think." He leans in and whispers into your ear, your eyes widening at his words. He steps back and waits for you to process the information. "You can't tell anyone."  
  
You nod, your head falling onto Poe's chest with some relief. Warm water continues to run down your bodies, putting you into a trance as you hold each other in reassuring embrace. When your fingertips begin to wrinkle from prolonged exposure, Poe reaches for the small bottle of Nlorna Flower shampoo and puts a few drops into your hair.  
  
It doesn't take much to build up suds. Even so, he takes his time. It's what you both need. Who knows how many more showers you get to take together like this. In peace, while there still is peace, even if it's hanging by a thread.  
  
Gentle massage with fingertips, Poe laughs softly at the bubbles threatening to run down your face. You squint and he sweeps them away just in time. He steps aside and helps you wash out your hair, lingering kisses over your shoulders reminding you that he's still yours. And he knows, you're still his. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [In Star Wars timeline, this fits approx. around the time Leia Organa established the Resistance which was in 28 ABY. I've given this story flexibility and never directly mentioned years for the reason that the EU is ever growing and that the events starting with the Yissira Zyde to the Battle of Crait all seem to happen in as little as one to two years [33/34 ABY].]


End file.
